The Modern Vampire's Guide
by idioticonion
Summary: What if Barney was a vampire, and wrote a self-help guide for other vampires? Spoilers for Season 4.1-ish but hugely AU.


**The modern vampire's guide**

**1. Sex**

Something happens to a chick when she comes. Her capillaries expand, sending a warm blush over her skin. Her lips pout, her nipples go all perky. Seriously, this is the only time to bite her.

Other guys, they just fumble around and bite down randomly on any neck that swings their way - they're in and out before she's even registered he's there.

What's with that?

Really, when she's peaking, that's the only way to slide in your fangs, under three layers of skin, beneath dermis, epidermis and subcutaneous until you're right there, right in the vein, suckin' on that red treasure trove like it's yo mamma's boobies.

So show a bit of class. Get a girl into bed, f'Christ's sake - she don't have to be nothing special. Not particularly bright, anyways, because that's a little easier. And, if it's been a while and you're _really_ jonesing for a fix, you can have her in a cab, up to your penthouse suite and out of her dress in, like, ten minutes tops.

Then comes that little thing I like to call… foreplay!

Yeah yeah yeah, I know what you're thinking! You're all like "Dude - seriously? I'm a vampire! I can just hypnotise her into submission with my incredible example of un-dead male godliness." And you'd be right to think that, my friend.

But, like I said (weren't you paying attention?) something _happens_ to a chick when she comes.

Make her come. Repeatedly. Rinse and repeat, in fact.

When she's screaming, you start biting and _not before_.

Trust me, you will be thanking me later.

(Actually if you want to send me a little gift, then a ticket to foxy boxing this Thursday wouldn't go amiss. Girls with floods of adrenalin pounding through their cute little veins. What up)

When you're done, and you're left with those two spots of blood, like twin rubies, beading on her lily-white skin (cos you're neat, right? You're not a monster), you get to wipe those suckers off with the edge of your thumb and you suck on it.

Tastes gross, right?

Keep reminding yourself of that, whenever you think that it's too much trouble to give her a good time for a change.

Peace out. Suckers.

*--*--*

**2. Taps**

So, there's this chick who's my Tap.

You don't know what a Tap is?

A _**Tap**_ is any cutlet (gotta be a 9 or over on the attractiveness scale) that's not dead behind the eyes and you don't want to _make_ dead behind the eyes.

Put simply, she's a friend who you feed from, so you don't want to kill her. Got it?

And I'm not being sappy here. This isn't some lame thing - you're not going to fall in love with your Tap. And yeah, you _are_ probably going to kill her eventually. She'll start noticing the acute anaemia pretty fast, but that's what blood transfusions are for right?

But have you ever tasted blood when the chick's been chugging iron supplements like there's no tomorrow? (Cos there may be no tomorrow for her… Ooops!) It's taaaaaaaasty!

Anyway, back to the chick.

Lily, she's married. And the great thing about married Taps is that you go in and turn them on while they are in bed with their husband - nail 'em, bite 'em, and you get to know that while hubby's walking around in blissful oblivion.

But, I hear you cry, what if he wakes up?

Dude! That's what your awesome powers of Vampire Hypnotism come in.

So, this one night, I'm macking on Lily, I'm down there, clit meet tongue, hello Mr tongue… and Marshall (that's the ball-and-chain), he wakes up. All I had to do was pat his hand and tell him he's dreaming and he goes right back to sleep like a big old baby.

And you know what's the pulsing vein on the artery on the over-sized heart in THIS story?

He's got a hard on so I'm going down on him and sucking away on that like it's a kind-of two-for-one offer at the corner store.

Vampire's gotta be flexible. If you're churning at the thought of feeding on another dude then you ain't gonna last two nights in this town.

Shape up.

Barnacle out.

*--*--*

**3. Covering your tracks**

So, you're a Vampire which means you're loaded. You've had enough lifetimes to have amassed all the awesome things in life. You've made your fortune, you've got a decent collection of vintage menswear, you've found the perfect bespoke tailor (Tip: Eastern European Mud Demons. Trust me. Sergei on 71st. Look him up) and you want to strut your legendary stuff.

But beware.

There are two types of danger facing the modern Vampire-about-town.

The first is the jealous boyfriend.

There's this guy… he's an architect. I'd turn Theodore in a heartbeat if I thought he'd still be my wingman a century from now. But the guy's flaky - he's looking for a _wife_.

But he's in love with me so what's a guy gonna do? I'm weak! I'm hedonistic! Hello, I'm a _Vampire_. But I'm not self-freakin'-destructive. You need an exit plan - a fireproof case under your bed containing the fake passport (by now, all your passports are fake) the gun (oh yeah) and the key to the Swiss bank account.

If jealous boyfriend blows your cover, you up and run. Don't think twice, don't look back.

Your _family_ will help you. After all, that's what families are for. You should see my "mom". She's crazy. But she made me the… hehe… "man" I am.

So what's the second danger facing the urbane Vampire New Yorker, you say. Have I forgotten?

No, I say to you. The Barnacle does not forget such things.

And no, it's not daylight (seriously dude - spray on tan, sun cream, ray bans. It's never sunny in NYC anyway!). Nor crosses, fire, decapitation (although that stings like a bitch).

No, it's fucking vampire hunters.

Whatever you do, don't fall in love with one.

Don't. Fall. In. Love.

**4. Vampire hunters. **

Trouble is, over the centuries, I've known a lot of women. Know, in the biblical sense, if you know what I mean.

Word.

I've basically nailed over thirteen-thousand women in my time.

(13,114 to be precise)

So I know what I'm talking about when I say that Robin Scherbatsky is beautiful.

She's awesome.

She's…

Shit. Balls. Fuck.

See, this is what I'm talking about!

First time we met, she had me tied up on her bed and found a _very_ creative use for a wooden stake…

Ah, memories.

Thing is, I'm not actually sure if she's trying to kill me as much as fuck-me-up to death. This slow (veryveryvery) painful death probably is worse than a lump of wood in the ribs.

And I've tried everything. Two nights ago we were playing wheelbarrow (I'll draw you a diagram) and I noticed the way the light catches the line of perspiration running down her back, across her pale, perfect skin and it actually moved me to tears.

She doesn't let me bite her.

(although she totally couldn't stop me if I wanted to)

She knows I wouldn't stop once I tasted her. This woman's no Lily. She's not my plaything.

I'm starting to think that I'm hers.

See, her Pops was taken by someone like me (oh yeah! Daddy issues) and he tried to kill her when she was a teen. She's told me a lot about her formative years, about how she's always had a fetish for vampires.

She talks about it while I'm inside her, fucking her hard enough to do structural damage to the penthouse bathroom.

She describes, in great detail, exactly what her Daddy did to her, while she's bouncing up and down on my lap, clenching around my dick until I'm shooting my load so hard that it makes her scream.

She. Is. Fucking. Awesome.

Sometimes, I try and wear her out (Tip: good idea with vampire hunters. They have to reach for their weapon. You never have to) because I just want her to let her guard down, to fall asleep.

She never takes me seriously, never takes anything seriously.

But I know she's killed three other vampires in New York recently.

Make a note: Robin Scherbatsky. She's got brownish, longish hair, blue eyes. She's like, an 11. Be on alert.

She's beautiful.

Shit. This isn't good.


End file.
